It Has Begun
by Evey Edge
Summary: Nick confronts Renard about his secret identity. How will Renard handle the situation? NOT SLASH! Takes place after 2x02. Disclaimer: I don't own Grimm and NOBODY owns Captain Renard, he wouldn't stand for it!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I don't really know if I'll be continuing this or not, I just felt an urge to exorcise my Grimm obsession, and I noticed there weren't many (any) non-slash Captain Renard/Nick stories circulating. I never really saw their relationship as romantic, but I do find it intriguing, thus this fan fiction was born. Enjoy and remember: reviews are always welcome!**

Renard sat at his desk, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Events were escalating far too quickly. He hated this, this impotency, this feeling of things being beyond his control.

It had all begun with Adalind's botched attempt on Marie Kessler's life. Marie Kessler, the rogue Grimm considered by many to be one of the most ruthless and deadly of her kind. The woman who, despite being on her deathbed, had managed to fend off two of her would-be killers. Renard had felt a grudging respect for Nick's aunt, even as he ordered her assassination.

His concern had been that Kessler would poison her nephew against him. Although he'd known the Grimm by reputation only, Kessler had had more than her share of encounters with other members of his extended family. She would undoubtedly have advised Nick against getting involved with any of them. That did not suit Renard's interests.

Nick had the potential to be an incredible valuable asset, both in upholding the peace between human and Wesen and as a deterrent against any family members that thought they could muscle in on his new territory. Silencing Kessler had seemed the logical move at the time, but thanks to Adalind's incompetence there was the chance Nick would one day trace the act back to him. If that happened everything he'd invested in the Grimm would have been for nothing.

In the months since Nick had inherited his Grimm legacy, Renard had been doing all he could to protect and cultivate his investment. In the process he'd managed to incur the displeasure of the Reapers, the Verrat, and his cousins. He'd lost an asset and when that asset turned on him, he'd been forced to personally intervene to undo her damage. He faced excruciating pain and the loss of yet another subordinate. All these sacrifices and all this effort and he still had nothing to show for it. Not the key, not the coins, and not Nick's pledge of fidelity.

Renard had wanted to secure Nick's trust and loyalty before revealing himself to the Grimm, but time was running out. Subtly pulling strings from the background would no longer do. His family was coming for him and his canton, the Mauvais Dentes confirmed it. He needed Nick's allegiance and he needed it now, or there was a fair chance neither would survive the coming storm.

The knock on his door pulled Renard out of his private thoughts. He looked up, and found the object of his musings standing stiffly in his doorway. There was something…off about his expression. Renard waved him in, wondering what could have brought Nick to the station now, hours after his shift had ended.

"Nick, come in. Something wrong? Is Juliet alright?" Renard had slipped out of the hospital room 24 hours ago, confident he'd assured the woman's recovery, but Nick's obvious tension indicated otherwise. If he'd gone through that hellish purge with nothing to show for it, someone was going to pay dearly for it. Catherine was clearly no longer an option, but Adalind couldn't hide forever. Not from him at any rate.

"It was you." Renard blinked once. What did Nick mean by that?

"I'm sorry, I don't follow." He trained his face into a practiced expression of confusion. Renard's mind was reeling. How should he play this? Best to let Nick talk, gauge what he knows and what he doesn't know.

"Only the prince can save her. That's what the hexenbiest said." This wasn't good. Catherine had obviously talked before her untimely demise.

"Nick, you're not making any sense. I think you should go home and get some rest." This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to bring Nick into the fold under his own terms. He wasn't supposed to be…exposed like this.

"No, I don't need rest, not when I just woke up to something that's been right under my nose for months. I was so busy chasing down Adalind that I forgot to ask myself why Catherine would be brewing a counter-curse for something her daughter did. Not for my sake or Juliet's certainly. She had to be working for someone. A royal. I checked the hospital surveillance videos. Guess who I saw ducking out of Juliet's room just minutes before she woke up? " Renard was slipping. Nick had him on tape. He couldn't bluff his way out of this one. He supposed it could have been worse. All Nick had caught him doing was saving the love of his life. That fact could easily be turned to his advantage.

"Well done, Nick. I keep underestimating you. Scotch?" Renard took two glasses and a bottle out of desk, poured and offered one to Nick, who eyed it like it might be poison.

"No." Renard shrugged, sipped his single malt and set it down on his desk. Nick clearly hadn't yet said all that was on his mind, but he seemed to be waiting for Renard to speak first.

"So, obviously you came here to say something to me, but it's late, so why don't you just say 'Thank you' and we'll call it a night." Nick's frown deepened as he took slow deliberate steps toward Renard's desk.

"I would, except that I didn't come here to say 'thank you.'" Renard couldn't say he was surprised given the Grimm's body language.

"Really? Then why did you come here, if not to express gratitude for my saving your girlfriend's life?" Never had Renard done so much for someone and have so little to show for it. Nick must really have no idea of the agony Renard had gone through for his sake.

"To ask you why you did." Renard raised both his eyebrow in what he knew to be the perfect expression of surprise.

"Why? Is so hard to believe I'd want to save an innocent woman's life?" Nick opinion of him had obviously taken a turn for the worst. It was a bit unfair of Nick to assume Renard was completely devoid of compassion. He was no bleeding heart, but he took no pleasure from pointless cruelly or the suffering of the innocent.

"So you were just being a good Samaritan? Helping someone with no thought of personal gain?" The underlying accusation did have some truth. He'd wanted Juliet to live so that Nick would remain in Portland, tied to him.

"Isn't that why we became cops?" Renard had hoped his deflection would remind Nick of their common ground but the Grimm wasn't having any of it.

"I doubt you and I joined the force for the same reason."

"Then enlighten me Detective, why else would I help Juliet the way I did, secretly? How would that possibly benefit me?" Nick's arms crossed his chest and Renard was briefly reminded of a belligerent teenager.

"I don't know, but I do know that you do a lot of things 'secretly', things that in no way resemble good deeds." Here it was, the accusations churning in Nick's mind, the reason his favorite detective was glaring at him as though he might very well be the devil incarnate.

"Meaning?" Renard kept his face carefully blank. He would need to handle this cautiously.

"Meaning Katherine isn't the only Hexenbiest in your employ. Adalind was yours too, making you responsible for nearly killing Hank AND trying to kill Aunt Marie." Clever Grimm. Nick was putting the pieces together, just as Renard had feared he would.

"Interesting theory, but where's your proof?" Renard raised his glass to his lips, taking another slow deliberate sip of scotch.

"Proof?" Nick's eyebrows furrowed as if he'd never heard of the word before.

"Yes, proof. You're a cop, you know you shouldn't accuse someone, particularly your boss, of a crime without proof." Renard worked to look as unperturbed as possible, keeping every muscle relaxed, and speaking with the same measured tones he used when discussing any of Nick's regular cases.

"How about the fact that Hexenbiest work for royalty and you're a prince?" If that was the best the Grimm could do, Renard was in the clear. He'd been nervous Nick had been about to whip out surveillance photos or maybe audio recordings.

"Flimsy. Even if I was the only royal in the area, and you have no way of knowing that for sure, who's to say she wasn't working on her own. You said yourself I reversed Adalind's curse. Why would I do that if she was working for me?"

"You have an answer for everything. A true politician." Nick may have meant that last sentence as an insult, but to Renard it was just the opposite. Politics had been Sean's world from the cradle, as it was for any child of the royal bloodline. He'd been raised in the vicious arena filled will deception, manipulation, and betrayal. He'd been given two options: play or die. He wasn't dead yet.

"I am what I was born to be, just as you are what you were born to be. We follow different paths, but I see no reason we can't co-exist, even become allies." At last what he'd been waiting months for, the first step toward acquiring his political prize.

"I can. I don't trust you." Nick's refusal was unfortunate, but not unexpected under the circumstances. The important thing at this stage was letting the Grimm know the offer stood. Nick would be much more valuable as a willing accomplice, than he would be if Renard was forced to coerce his cooperation. Not that Renard had ruled the option out, but it was more strategic to set it as a last resort.

"That's your prerogative, but the time may soon come when you're in need of a friend. When it does, please remember, my door is always open. I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Nick? Please send my best to Juliet." Nick turned slowly and exited the way he had come, leaving Renard to nurse his Scotch and review what had just transpired.

Overall Renard felt satisfied with the way the interview had gone. Nick had caught him by surprise, but Renard had recovered and ultimately won the day. He was one step closer to reaching his goals, one step closer to fortifying his position. Let his challengers come. Soon enough Renard's champion would be ready to meet them. It had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Why did the offices of private detectives always seem to smell of week-old takeout? Perhaps the reason these men no longer worked within a law enforcement agency was their lack of personal hygiene. Renard was grateful his long black coat and gloves keep him more or less insulated from the filth. First thing tomorrow morning he would be sending his clothes out for dry cleaning.

"You said you found what I was looking for." The greasy looking specimen before him smiled in a self-satisfied way.

"Yep. Pictures and audio. Question is, do you got what I'm looking for?" Renard's old language tutor would have beaten him senseless if he'd butchered Archaic Latin the way this man had just butchered his native tongue. It was bad enough that most citizens of this country were only fluent in one language, the least they could do was learn to speak it properly. Renard opened the envelope to show the PI the bills.

"$2000, as agreed." The man, a virtual caricature of greed, licked his lips.

"Actually I was thinking about that, our agreement, that is. The surveillance work was a bit tricky, what with the subject being a cop, so I think a little bonus is in order. Five hundred bucks." If ever there was one trait that universally defined all sentient creatures that have walked the earth it was have to be this; the unquenchable hunger for more. Renard himself was no stranger to the impulse, but he strongly disliked being mistaken for someone who could be coerced. The last man who had tried to strong arm Renard had ended up with a bullet in his brain. On the other hand he'd rather not have to investigate yet another of his own homicides, especially now with Nick watching him like a hawk. For the sake of expediency he'd pay the money. Renard pulled out his wallet and added five hundred-dollar bills to the already thick envelope.

"What did you find out?" The investigator's grin widened to Chester cat proportions. Renard had the fleeting juvenile impulse to flash this parasite a smile of his own, the one he'd inherited from his hexenbiest mother.

"You wanted all known associates of one, Detective Nick Burkhart. Starting with the obvious we've got his partner, Hank Griffin and his girlfriend Juliette Silverton." Renard groaned inwardly. If this was the best this moron could managed he would have to seriously reconsider his stance on killing him.

"I told you, I already know about them. Who else has he been talking to?" Nick clearly had outside help of some sort and Renard needed to know who.

"I was getting there." The investigator flipped a new photograph on the table. It featured Nick, talking to a bearded man Renard had never seen before.

"Who's this?" Renard studied the photograph carefully. The photo had obviously been taken through a window with a long distance lens. The men appeared to be having an intense conversation about something.

"Meet James Monroe. He's some kind antique clock repairman. This guy has literally one of the more boring existences I ever seen. Avid pilates fan, stamp collector, and pretty much a loner. Aside from your man Burkhardt, I've only ever seen with this woman," Another photograph appeared featuring an attractive and somewhat familiar-looking woman, "Rosalee Calvert. Recently moved to Portland after her brother's death. She runs his shop now, some sort of old time herbs and spices deal." Of course, now he remembered. The J addicts burglary. The owner of the shop was a Fuchsbau. Nick worked the case.

A Fuchsbau running an apothecary would have knowledge of Zaubertranks. It would explain Nick's ability to outwit Adalind. This was precisely the type of information Renard was looking for..

"You said you had audio?" The investigator reached into his desk and tossed Renard a flash drive.

"It's a conversation between the Monroe guy and your detective, but I don't know how much use it'll be to you. They go back and forth about princes and curses…weird fairytale crap. They're either both member of some bizarre role playing game, talking in code, or straight up nuts." A conversation concerning Princes? Fortune was clearly favoring Renard. A paltry twenty-five hundred dollars was a small price to pay for some real insight into the mind Nick Burkhardt. Time to wrap this up.

"Just to be clear: I was never here and you've have never heard of Nick Burkhardt. You will burn all files and erase all tapes concerning this case. Understood?" The investigator's eyes were glued to the envelope. Renard would almost swear he could see drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Sure. Total amnesia. Files wiped clean. No problem." Renard handed the detective his fee, and collected the photographs and files from the desk.

"Good, because if I find out you've been selling this information to anybody else, someone's going to need to hire another PI to find out what happened to you." With a smile he knew was chilling, if not supernatural, Renard strode out of the office. He had a private conversation to listen to.


	3. Chapter 3

Renard lounged in front of his computer desk, headphone comfortably resting on ears. He'd gone through the PI's files half a dozen times, until he was confident he'd absorbed all relevant data. Now it was time for the audio file. He tapped his mouse, closed his eyes and began to listen.

"Dude, where have you been? You went radio silent on me for like three days."

"Sorry, I just…it's been a lot dealing Juliette's memory loss and Hank's impeding breakdown. It's killing me that I can't do anything to help either of them. With Hank I keep thinking I should tell him the truth, but…"

"Yeah, might make everything a hundred times worse. I'm sorry man."

"It's not your fault, its mine. Ever since I became a Grimm it seems like every case I work involves Wesen in some way. Makes me wonder how I would have handled these cases if I hadn't inherited my little problem when I did."

"You really shouldn't call your Grimmness a problem, Nick. It sounds a little self-hating, and believe you me, I know self-hating. I mean I get it, genetic inheritances aren't always a picnic. When I was growing up there were definitely times I would have traded my right leg for the chance to be normal."

"Your right leg? Don't you mean your right arm?"

"I couldn't play the cello without my right arm, Nick."

"Of course, how silly of me."

"The point is we are what we are, and there's no point in wishing we were otherwise. What you got to do is focus on the positive. For example with me, I would have never fully appreciated the complete bouquet of a fine Bordeaux without my hyper sensitive nose. There's always an upside if you look hard enough."

"Can you tell me what the upside is of constantly hunting or being hunted by creatures from my childhood nightmares?"

"Well, apart from it leading you to meet a host of fascinating people like myself, and the kickass superpowers, it allows you to do what you've clearly always wanted to do."

"What's that?"

"Help people. That's why you became a cop, right?"

"Funny, you're the second person to say that to me this week."

"Really? Who was the first?"

"My boss."

"Smart guy."

"Yeah. Anyway speaking of helping people, does Rosalee have any idea about how to reverse Juliette's memory loss?"

"No, dude, sorry. She has looked more into what the cure entailed though."

"And?"

"And all I can say in that somebody out there must really like you."

"Why do you say that?"

"The counter curse calls for a kiss from someone pure of heart."

"You're saying someone snuck in to Juliette's room and kissed her while she was sleeping?"

"Yeah, but before you get all 'jealous boyfriend', you have to remember it could only have been with the purest intentions or else the kiss wouldn't have worked."

"So whoever did this it, is a really good person, someone trustworthy?"

"Not necessarily. A pure heart is a rare thing these days, so in order to meet the requirements of the cure whoever performed the kiss would have had to drink this nasty purifying potion. That's what the Hexenbiest was brewing for our mystery process is apparently pretty agonizing.

"Why would someone go through all that for me and not even let me know that they'd done it?"

"I'm more interested in the who than the why, to be honest."

"Actually that I know."

"What?"

"Before my Mom left she went to see Catherine. It didn't go well."

"So I saw on the news. You're mother's not exactly Ms. Congeniality is she?"

"Before Catherine died she said that only a prince could cure Juliette."

"A prince? A prince flew in from Europe to kiss your comatose girlfriend?"

"No, she said the prince was here, in Portland."

"Oh no. This is bad. This is really, really bad."

"Why? Why is this bad?"

"Nick, the reason most Wesen left the Old Country was to escape the persecution of the Royal families. These guys are seriously power hungry and not big on civil rights. If they're expanding their territory into US it is bad news for Wesen and bad news for you."

"Why me? What would the royals possibly want with me?"

"Probably the same thing they wanted with your ancestors; they want you to work for them."

"I guess it's too bad I already have a job."

"Don't joke about this, this is serious. This prince, to do want he did for Juliette, he must want you pretty badly. He won't be the only one either. If the Portland prince knows about you, then chances are the rest of his family does too. Remember how Ian told you Grimms were valuable?"

"Yeah. Now I kind of wish I was paying more attention."

"Consider yourself a shiny toy on playground with a bunch of mean little boys who don't like to share."

"Doesn't sound good."

"It's not."

"I found out who he is. The prince in Portland."

"You're kidding me?! Well who is it?"

"My boss."

"Excuse me?"

"My boss, Captain Sean Renard of the Portland Police Department."

"No way! No freaking way! So this whole time…all theWesen cases you've worked…"

"Yep."

"Does he know about me and Rosalee?"

"I don't know."

"About your mother?"

"I don't know."

"About the-"

"I DON'T KNOW, Monroe, okay? He had me completely fooled for at least a year now. Maybe longer. He might have known about my family's heritage before I did."

"What's he like?"

"If you asked me a week ago, I would have said he was a great boss; smart, compassionate, and hardworking. He doesn't socialize much with the detectives, but he knows everyone's family situation, and most importantly he always has our backs."

"And now that you know what he is, what do you think of him?"

"I don't know what to think. I keep thinking about Adalind about his possible connection to her. Was he behind what happened to Aunt Marie and Hank? Even if he was, what could I do about it? And why did he save Juliette!"

"I guess you could always ask him."

"I already did, he wouldn't give me a straight answer."

"You're kidding, right? I mean I was kidding, so you must be kidding too, right?"

"No, I confronted him a couple of nights ago."

"Are you serious? You went up to a prince and said 'Hey, I know your big secret!' Are you out of your mind?!"

"I was feeling a little emotional, with the Juliette thing, and the Hank thing, and the Mom thing, and then I find out I've been duped by someone I've worked with for years. It may have been a little impulsive."

"You think?! I can't believe you didn't at least call me for backup."

"Look, as far as I know, he doesn't know about you and Rosalee and I'd like to keep it that way, at least until I can figure out what he's up to."

"I appreciate the thought, but if the royals have taken an interest in you it's only a matter of time before they know everything from your astrological sign to whether you prefer boxers or briefs."

"Comforting thought. So what can I do?"

"Short of changing your identity and fleeing the country, I'd say not much. Even then they'd probably still find you. Grimms are too rare these days for one to disappear unnoticed. What will you do? Quit the force?"

"I thought about it, but it wouldn't do any good. If he wants find me, he'll me. So far he hasn't interfered with the way I do my job, either of my jobs actually. As for the rest of it, I guess I'll just have to take it as it comes."

"You mean WE'LL take it as it comes."

"I'll drink to that."

Renard hit he pause button on his computer screen and removed his headphones, pondering what information he had just acquired and how it could be put to the most use.

The first aspect was the relationship between Nick and this Monroe. Monroe was obviously some kind of Wesen, but all Renard had to go on was an enhanced sense of smell, and any number of races shared that attribute. Renard had been correct about Nick's using Wesen to assist him with his Grimm work. He'd assumed Nick had been using the instinctive fear most Wesen had of Grimms to force their cooperation. At the very least he'd expected Nick to have been paying for the information they provided him. What he had heard suggested that neither scenario was accurate. It would appear that Nick and this Wesen were friends. Good friends obviously, if the Wesen was offering to help Nick take on members of the royal family.

The relationship was clearly in defiance with the status quo. Renard's family, the Verrat, and the Reapers were only a few of the groups that would be extremely displeased if they discovered the alliance. Renard was torn between concern over what reprimands he'd face if the Verrat learned what "his" Grimm was up to and pleasure in envisioning the outrage of those self-righteous ethnic purists. Given Renard's own mixed parentage, it was no wondered the organization and he had never seen eye to eye.

The information Monroe provided Nick about the royalty families was unflatteringly accurate and could be turned to Renard's advantage, if handled in the correct manner. The better Nick understood the danger Renard's encroaching relatives presented, the more likely he was to ally himself with Renard. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as it were.

Finally and perhaps most importantly, was what he had learned regarding Nick's thoughts on Renard himself. Nick, as he had indicated in their previous conversation, harbored several misgivings, but wasn't completely decided against him. Renard had obviously been successful in creating a positive image for himself in his capacity as a police captain. He should continue to cultivate that persona and let Nick do his police and Grimm work without obstruction.

The biggest mistake Renard could make was forcing Nick's hand. He had tried that with Adalind and failed miserably. Patience, whatever his brother may think, was the smarter ploy. Let his relatives attempt to snatch the Grimm up. Nick would slip through their fingers and fall straight into Renard's waiting hands.


	4. Chapter 4

As Renard approached the door to his condo his ears detected the muted notes of classical music coming through his door. Someone was in his apartment. He drew his gun and paused, listening. Brahms, one of Renard's vinyls. With his left hand he tested the doorknob. Unlocked. Either he was dealing with the world's most careless burglar or someone with an enormous ego and a penchant for the dramatic was inside waiting for him. Either way Renard wasn't taking any chances.

He slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open, moving cautiously, gun first, through the hallway and into his living room. Renard's eyes quickly honed in on the man lounging on his coach, sipping a Scotch. Eric. Who else could it have been?

"Hello, brother. Care for a drink? I've already poured myself a glass. I hope you don't mind." Eric waved to the decanter filled with the 1939 Macallan Renard had purchased at $10,000 a bottle. Sean knew his brother vastly preferred French wine to Scotch, but also knew that wasn't the point. Eric was playing the same game he always had, provoking Sean by stealing what was important to him.

When they were younger Eric's aim had been to goad Sean into revealing his partial Hexenbiest face. Eric's greatest delight had been when he'd pushed his half-brother to Woged on front of influential adults, particularly their father. It was Eric's way of constantly reminding everyone they had a half-breed in their midst. In one sense Renard was grateful for his brother's torment; it taught him control at a very young age. Now even in the most stressful of circumstances his shame remained buried. It had been a useful skill when Nick had first inherited his Grimm sight.

"Why would I mind you invading my home and helping yourself to my valuable possessions?" Renard lowered his gun, but decided not to holster it. One never knew with Eric when having a loaded weapon ready would come in handy.

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm? This time in America clearly has had a terrible effect on you." Sean scanned the room with his peripheral vision trying to discern if any of his belongings, apart from his liquor and is record collection had been tampered with. He couldn't detect any obvious changes, but he was surprised to see the lack of lurking underlings that usually accompanied his brother on his travels.

"Your time here might have a worse effect on you. I notice you've neglected to bring your bodyguards." The temptation to shoot his half-brother and lifelong adversity was almost too much to resist. Almost. The only thing staying his trigger finger was the fact that Eric would never be so reckless with his own safety without some kind of insurance policy.

"I hardly thought I'd need them for a social call on my dear brother. Besides they're on an errand for me at the moment. They should be returning for me within the hour. I've given them very specific instructions regarding my protection while I'm in Portland." Meaning if Eric mysteriously vanished, the guards would come after him. Renard had no desire to be ducking an assassin's bullet in the immediate future, so Eric's death would have to wait for another day. Still that was no reason Sean couldn't give his brother some incentive for not crossing him while he was in town.

"I'd still be cautious if I was you. Portland is such a dangerous city. Look at what happened to our dear cousin when he decided to visit." It would do no harm to remind Eric that he would not tolerate interfere in within his canton.

"His tragic passing is why I'm doubly assured of my wellbeing. The family might overlook one such misfortune, but not two." The old threat of 'The Family'. Sean had traveled halfway around the world to be free from their stifling influence and yet here they were again. Would Sean ever stop feeling their breath on the back of his neck?

"Why are you here?" Sean was weary of these games. He wanted rid of his brother. If he couldn't do it permanently, he'd settle for him being gone from his immediate vicinity.

"To see you, naturally. It has been too long. Also I hope to gather a bit of the local color. Rub elbows with the natives, as it were." There it was. Eric had decided he wanted to poach in Sean's city.

"You mean the Grimm." The scotch was one thing, but Nick was another. If Eric thought he would roll over and let him snatch away such a potentially valuable tool, he had another thing coming.

"I had hoped to make his acquaintance while I was in town. I don't suppose you could arrange that introduction? He DOES work for you, doesn't he?" An unsubtle jab at Renard's failure to secure Nick's obedience. Renard doubted Eric would be quite so scornful if he ever actually met Nick Burkhardt. Not, of course, that Sean intended to facilitate that encounter.

"Detective Burkhardt has enough on his agenda without adding social introductions to visiting dignitaries."

"Do you mean that terrible business of his girlfriend having to go to the hospital? Such a shame. But I hear she's home now, safe and mostly sound, so I suppose some stories do have happy endings." Eric was keeping abreast of the events surrounding the Grimm and he was flaunting his knowledge to Renard. Was he making a threat against Nick's girlfriend or just trying to get a rise out of him?

"I meant his work keeps him fully occupied, and he doesn't really have the time or inclination to make new 'friends'." Eric's phone buzzed, cutting off whatever retort he'd been planning to make. Eric checked the texted, smirked and stood.

"Maybe we should allow Nick to be the judge of that. At any rate I'm off, so much to do in this delightful little canton of yours. I'll be sure to pass on news of your good health to the family."

Sean waited until his brother had left the apartment before heading into his office and pulling open one of his desk drawers. He removed a false bottom and extracted a bug detector and a burner cell phone. From there he moved into his bathroom and turned on the shower. With the wand Renard quickly swept the room for listening devices. Once he was certain the area was clean he used the burner phone to call Nick. He picked up on the third ring.

"Burkhardt."

"Nick, it's Captain Renard. Is Juliette there with you?" There was a pause on the other end of the line, as though Nick was evaluating the potential dangers of answering.

"Yes." Nick sounded cautious, and uneasy, which of course, he had every reason to be.

"Good. This is very important: you need to keep a close eye on her tonight. Don't let her out of your sight for any reason." That would get Nick's attention.

"What's going on?" All hesitancy evaporated from the Grimm's voice as if it was never there. In its place was focus and intensity. With a flip of the switch he transitioned from man to soldier.

"The man who sent the Mauvais Dentes has come to Portland." No need to go into Eric's complete background. All Nick needed to know that the man was ruthless, dangerous, and not his friend.

"You know about that?" It was at times like this when Renard realized how well and truly he lived his double life. Even now that Nick knew the truth about Sean, he seemed shocked that his Captain hadn't been as ignorant of his extra-curricular activities as he had appeared.

"Of course I know about that, that's hardly the point. The point is that he is here and you need to be ready." Sean did too. He had no idea what Eric might try, but he could not allow his brother to conduct his raid with impunity. Sean couldn't afford to lose his greatest bargaining chips. Nick and the key must remain in Portland with him.

"And he threatened Juliette?"

"Not directly, but he didn't succeed when he came at you head on, so this time he'll come at you sideways." Eric's attack would be swift and ruthless. It was how he'd been raised, how they'd both been raised.

"Sideways being through Juliette?" If Nick wanted assurances or guarantees, Sean couldn't offer them. He only knew the attack would be directed at Nick's most vulnerable point, his heart.

"It makes the most sense; she's your greatest weakness. I'm sending someone I trust to watch over Hank, just in case. We'll need to talk more about this face to face, but he's almost certainly got someone watching me, so it'll have to be first thing tomorrow morning at the precinct." He'd have a lot of decisions to make between now and then about what exactly he would say to the Grimm.

"You seem pretty sure you know how this guy thinks. How well do you know him?" How well did he know Eric? His rival, his brother, and his mirror image. The man whose shadow he'd been trying to escape his whole life.

"Well enough. I'll see you in tomorrow." Renard ended the called and striped before his steaming mirror. His own eyes glared back at him, in a seeming challenge. Could he do this? Outmaneuver his brother, acquire his Grimm, and take possession of the key? Of course he could. As he told Nick, it was who he was, what he was born to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Renard felt completely invigorated, despite having acquired only a few hours of sleep the night before. It had been a struggle to complete his morning routines at the usual pace. Renard knew nothing must be irregular. He needed to tread carefully, to give no outward sign of interference.

Under ordinary circumstances Eric's behavior would be considered a severe breach of etiquette and Sean would be well within his rights to expediate his brother's departure from his city. Unfortunately Renard's recent murder of his cousin, inability to control Nick, and failure to procure the key had placed him on rocky ground. The family was obviously willing to turn a blind eye on Eric's indiscretions if he produced results.

Renard spotted Nick the second he entered the bullpen, but the Grimm was too busy to notice him. Nick had his hand on the shoulder of a slim woman with highlighted brown hair. It was the Fuchsbau who owned the apothecary. Her face was tight, eyebrows knit to together, but she was nodding, as if agreeing with something the detective was saying. Her arms shook slightly at her sides. Suddenly her focus shifted, as if sensing Renard's gaze. Brown eyes bore into him. Smalls hands curled into fists. Renard started walking toward them.

"Is that him?" the woman's voice sounded strained, with a definite undercurrent of strong emotion. Nick's curt affirmation earned Sean a glare of utter contempt. Nick had definitely been sharing his identity with his Wesen contacts, and this one at least, was not remotely impressed. Renard couldn't say he was surprised. Most New World Wesen had ancestors who had immigrated for the sole purpose of escaping the old regime. Renard definitely understood the sentiment. What he didn't understand was she was here, in the police station. It didn't bode well.

"Nick, we need to talk. Privately." Nick lifted his chin, ever so slightly.

"Yeah, we do." The Fuchsbau's eyes flicked back and forth between Renard and his detective.

"Nick, don't go with him."

"You'll be safe here, there are police everywhere. No one's going to try anything." Renard inferred that someone had come after this woman, likely his brother, and she had somehow escaped. She must be tougher than she looked.

"I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you. You can't trust him." Yes, definitely tougher than she looked.

"That's rich, coming from a Fuchsbau." The woman woged, her fox-like face snarling in anger.

"That's enough, both of you. Rosalee, Hank will be back in a minute to take your statement. Remember what we talked about." Her statement? What exactly was she reporting? Assault? Attempted kidnapping?

"Yeah." She didn't look happy, but she seemed to be acquiescing to Nick's request.

"Captain, shall we go to your office." Nick's forced smile looked like it was actually causing him pain.

"By all means."

Once the door had closed behind them Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Renard held up one finger. He turned on his computer, logged on and opened up Microsoft Word. He motioned Nick to come around his desk so he could see the screen. Renard tapped out: "Start typing. It doesn't matter what. I need to scan the room for bugs, and don't what to arouse the suspicions of anyone who might be listening." Nick's lips pressed together in a thin line, but he began hitting keys as requested.

Renard opened his briefcase and removed the bug detector. He swept his office, just as he had his entire apartment the night before. Last night he'd discovered three listening devices concealed in a lamp, a picture frame, and his office phone. He hadn't removed them. When hunting a predator, its best to let him think he's hunting you.

In five minutes Renard had cleared most of his office. Nick's keystrokes seemed to become faster and more forceful the longer Sean searched. Clearly the detective was losing patience, but Renard wouldn't let that rush him. Renard had long taken to heart the proverb, "Act in haste, regret at leisure."

The Grimm glared at Sean as he moved the wand over the desk. Nick turned the monitor to face Renard. Sean's eyes caught a few sentences, "We don't have time for time this!", "This is ridiculous!" There was also a string of a few choice words that Renard hadn't even known were in the detective's vocabulary. Nevertheless he remained unperturbed, and continued his search until he finally got a hit, underneath his stapler, of all place.

Nick froze as the LED lights lit up. Renard waved Nick to the side, and typed, "You were saying?" Next Renard sighed, rolled his chair back, and pointed to the door. Nick hesitated, staring at the stapler for a long moment before nodding and following Sean out of the office.

The captain led Nick past his own desk, through a crowd of officers and into the observation area of interrogation room 2. The room on the other side of the one-way glass was empty. Renard locked the door to ensure them total privacy.

"What the hell was that?!" Nick's outburst seemed to echo off the walls of the small room.

"I thought it was fairly obvious. My office has been bugged." Eric thought of himself as being very clever, and in some respects he was, but he had two great weaknesses. The first was an inability to be innovative. Once a particular ploy has been successful, he rarely sought to improve or change it. Sending the assassin in a cargo ship from Rotterdam was a classic example. Eric's reliance on his old trick allowed Sean to traced the dead man's trail right back to his brother's door.

Eric couldn't be entirely blamed for his failing. His mother ensured he was raised as a member of the old guard, holding all traditions as sacrosanct. When you're told your entire life that there is only one way something should be done, it's hard to imagine the alternatives. Renard was not so limited in his thinking.

Eric's second weakness was his tendency to underestimate his opponents. Growing up Eric had had scores of sycophants praising his brilliance at every turn. He put a little too much stock in their words. No matter the situation Eric couldn't seem to conceive of the notion that he'd be outsmarted. It was about time Sean taught him his mistake.

"I assure you the people who did this have broken into far more secure facilities than the Portland PD HQ." Sean was personally aware of infiltrations into White House, the Kremlin, and the Louvre.

"So you know who did this? Let me guess, the same guy who ordered the hit on me?" For someone fairly new to the world of cutthroat Wesen politics, he seemed to be catching on fairly quickly.

"Good guess."

"Who is this man?" At this point Sean had no idea how much he wanted to tell the Grimm. He needed to be fully apprised of the situation before he made that call.

"All in good time. I want to know why the Fuchsbau is here. Something's happened hasn't it? Tell me."

"Why should tell you anything?" Nick's suspicion was no longer just inconvenient, it was becoming irritating.

"You mean aside from the fact that I saved Juliette's life, and protected yours on more than one occasion? How about because I have information that you need and you lose absolutely nothing by sharing what you know?" Renard would clearly have to teach Nick the basics of negotiations and political alliances. There didn't need to been liking or trust between two parties for them to strike a deal. All they really needed was a shared goal that benefited both sides of the agreement.

Nick searched Sean's eyes for a full ten seconds. Renard had no idea what he was looking for within them, or if he found it, but at last the Grimm sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Monroe's been abducted."


	6. Chapter 6

"Who is Monroe?" Renard thought back to the files the PI had given him on Nick's associates. James Monroe was the clock repairman, and a Wesen of some kind.

"Monroe is a good friend of mine. He's a Wesen. He was with Rosalee in her shop when four guys in black burst in and tried to kidnap them." Eric's guards. Vicious fighters conditioned to unquestioningly obey orders. These Wesen had been recruited in their youth to serve the Families and undergone training that would shame most human military. It raised the question of how they'd failed to secure both of their targets.

"How did she escape?" Sean was uneasy that the woman been allowed to run, that there was some other angle at play here. She was a Fuchsbau, as he'd said earlier, so perhaps she'd betrayed Nick to Eric.

"Monroe. One of the soldiers was sending a text, presumably to the guy they were working for, and Monroe made his move. Rosalee said they seemed to be caught off guard when he Woged, like they didn't know he was a Blutbad." Sean blinked. A Bludbad? It was hard for Sean to wrap his head around.

"Why would they? Blutbaden and Grimms don't exactly have a friendly history." Of all the types of Wesen Sean had considered as possibilities for Nick's friend, Blutbad hadn't come close to making the list. Blutbad's were strong, violent, and wild. The only thing they hated more than Bauerschwein were the Grimms who put hundreds of their ancestors' heads on spikes. Nick and Monroe's friendship wasn't just unorthodox, it was enough to make the Verrat High Command's collective heads explode. Sean smiled thinly at the thought.

"Monroe's a Blutbad Wieder and he's saved my life more than a few times. Anyway Monroe attacked Rosalee's guards and told her to find me. She wasn't happy about it, but they were outnumbered." That was at least consistent with typical Blutbad behavior. They have an almost fanatical loyalty to those they identify as their pack. It was conceivable that Nick and this Rosalee had somehow fallen under that heading, despite the difference in their races.

"Any causalities?" If Eric's numbers had been reduced by the botched abduction, it would increase their probability of a successful counterattack.

"Rosalee said one, probably two dead." Half of Eric's strike team demolished by a stamp-collecting cellist? Sean's day was starting to look up.

"He killed two guards?" Wieder or not, the Blutbad was clearly a force to be reckoned with. He might be worth cultivating as an asset if he lived.

"It wasn't like he had a lot of choice." Nick's tone was defensive, as though Renard would object to the Blutbad's actions. It was further proof that Nick didn't know him very well.

"I wasn't judging him, I was merely admiring his proficiency. Those men had considerable training. An average Wesen would be no match for them." Nick's eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening them, yet again.

"You seem to know a lot about these kidnappers." Sean was prepared for this, the questions about his connections to Nick adversaries. He'd decided to volunteer enough information to keep the Grimm appeased, without revealing anything damning about himself.

"Yes, I do. And no, to answer your next question, I did not hire them. I am however intimately familiar with the man who did. His name is Eric and he is a Prince." Two true statements that had cost him nothing.

"He's a relative of yours?" This question was a bit trickier. An honest answer might prompt Nick to jump to the conclusion that Sean was in cahoots with his sibling. On the other hand, Nick might spot a lie and come to the same conclusion.

"All Princes are related, some distantly, some not so distinctly."

"That's not a straight answer." Nick had seen through his careful manipulation of the truth. Unfortunate. So what he should do now? Deception wasn't getting Sean anywhere, so it was time for another tactic.

"No, you're right it's not. I apologize, being evasive is a habit that's not easy to break. I probably should tell you, if only so you won't be taken by surprise if Eric decides to tell you himself, he's my brother." Sean waited as Nick digested this new piece of information.

"Your brother?"

"Half-brother, technically."

"Why is doing this?" The quick and easy answer would be, because he can.

"My brother rarely does things for just one reason, but I'd guess obtaining the key is his main priority." Bringing home the key would go a long way to currying favor with the other families, and Eric never missed an opportunity make powerful allies.

"You know about the key?" Another dangerous question. Sean's relationship with Nick was precarious enough without admitting to his involvement in Adalind's attempted coercion.

"All members of the royal families know about the keys. The key in your possession originally belonged to the knight that served my family during the Crusades." Sean thought it couldn't hurt to remind Nick of his family's history of service.

"So what's his plan? Ask for key in exchange for Monroe's life?" Kidnap and ransom. Terms Nick's cop training had familiarized him with.

"Most likely."

"Then why hasn't he called yet?" A fair question, one to which Sean had no immediate answer.

"He will, probably within the hour." Of that at least Sean was certain. Eric's plan may have been slightly derailed, but Sean knew his brother too well to believe he'd abandon his scheme. Aborting his mission at this stage would be too much for his considerable ego.

"But why wait at all?" Sean considered the question. Why had Eric waited? He'd had Monroe in custody since last night, so why had he postponed contact?

"There are few possibilities. He might have wanted have wanted to catch you here at the station."

"Why?" Sean thought back to the bugs in his office, and Eric's provocation last night. Eric hadn't been trying to warn him away at all. On the contrary, he wanted Sean to intervene on Nick's behalf.

"To see if you'd come to me for help. He's probably hoping to gather evidence of my interference."

"Why would he want to do that?" How little Nick understood about the viper's nest that was Sean's family.

"So he can secure the Families' approval to have me killed. Royal blood is considered sacred, and assassinating a Prince within the boundaries of his canton would be heavily frowned upon, unless there was proof the Prince is disloyal to the Families." Eric had been waiting years for this. It wasn't enough that he was the legitimate son and heir apparent to their house. It wasn't enough that their ancestral canton would be his upon their father's death. It wasn't enough that Sean had moved to another continent. Eric wouldn't be satisfied until he was wiped from the face of the earth.

"And I here I thought my family had issues." When it came to familial dysfunction, no one could measure up to the high standards the Families set.

"Another explanation is that he'd hoped to recapture the Fuchsbau before contacting you. It wasn't an accident that he tried to grab two hostages instead of one." Sean had been thinking about Nick's description of the attack. His brother would never have sent a team of four for one female Fuchsbau. Eric must have demanded both Wesen to be brought to him, and Sean could guess the reason.

"What do you mean?"

"Two hostages mean one is surplus. He only would need one as a bargaining chip for the final exchange."

"So why take the other?" Nick, honorable and compassionate that he was, couldn't understand the mind of a man like Eric. It further illustrated the point that the Grimm needed Sean as much as Sean needed him.

"To make a point." Understanding and horror suddenly dawned in Nick's eyes.

"So if Rosalee hadn't gotten away…"

"Eric would have opened negotiations by sending you your friend's head." Nick's hands involuntarily curled into fists. If Sean's brother had miraculously appeared in the small room at that moment, Sean was confident he'd be treated to the sight of Eric being beaten to death.

"That's sadistic."

"And smart. In one move he could have conveyed his seriousness of intent and made you extremely emotional. It's harder to think strategically while experiencing rage or grief." Anger blinded you, made you act irrationally and impulsively. What Nick needed was to channel his outrage and fury into a cold, focused hatred. Sean knew better than anyone that that was the only way to survive.

"You really seem to understand this guy." There was no one on earth Sean understood better.

"As I said, he's my brother. I know how he thinks." Eric was his mirror image. He was the darkest part of his heart.

"Because you think the same way?" The answer was simultaneously 'Yes' and 'No'. They had both been tutored by their father in the art of ruthlessness. They had been taught how to crush their enemies and make men fear and obey them. They had learned to lie and manipulate to serve their purposes. It was the lessons learned outside their father's instruction that had made the brother different.

"I won't deny there are similarities." Whether not the likenesses outweighed the differences only time would tell.

"Then how can I trust you to help me?" Again with that word, 'Trust". Renard couldn't begin to understand why the Grimm held it in such esteem. 'Trust' was a concept invented by the naïve who use it as an excuse cry 'foul' when things don't go their way. The question wasn't whether Nick could 'trust' Sean. The question was, did he have another choice?

"Because I'm the only one who can."

Nick's phone buzzed in his coat pocket. The detective slowly drew it out and placed it to his ear, never taking his eye off Renard.

"Burkhardt,"


	7. Chapter 7

"Detective. I can't tell how pleased I am to be speaking with you at last." The voice coming through Nick's phone was polished and charming. The Grimm noted a distinctive British accent, very different from the captain's pure American one. Were they raised on different continents? Renard had said this man was only his half-brother. Royalty was generally established through the father's side, so they must have had different mothers.

"Who is this?" Despite his words, Nick had no doubt this man was the prince he'd been warned about, but if he revealed the information he'd already gathered, he'd expose his source. He still wasn't sure about his boss' intentions, but until he'd made up his mind one way or the other he needed to keep his options open.

"How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Prince Eric Philippe François of the House of Bourban," His casual arrogance in the face of what this man had done to him was astounding.

"To what do I owe the honor, Your Highness?" Nick's grip on his cell was turning his knuckles white.

"Don't be coy, Detective. I'm sure you're aware by now that we have a mutual friend." Did the prince mean Renard? Was the entire charade in the Captain's office for nothing? Nick exhaled slowly. He had to be cautious.

"I doubt that."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nick. You don't mind if I call you 'Nick', do you?" The bastard was playing with him, like a cat with a mouse. Two could play at that game.

"Not at all, Eric." Captain Renard's eyebrows lifted slightly at the use of his brother's given name, but he said nothing.

"Touché. As I was saying, I fear my new acquaintance might be quite hurt to hear you don't consider him a boon companion, especially after he's been so loyal to you these past hours." So the prince had meant Monroe all along. That was good. If Adalind had taught him anything, it was that superior knowledge could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

"Enough games. Put him on the phone." Renard had indicated that Monroe would be kept alive so long as he was Eric's sole bargaining chip, but Nick wouldn't be able to breathe easy until he heard his friend's voice grumbling through the phone.

"I'm not sure I like your tone, Detective." So the prince didn't like being given orders? Tough shit.

"And I'm not sure I care about what you like or what you don't like. At least not until I know we have something to discuss." Renard was emphatically shaking his head at Nick, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to be reined in.

"I admire your spirit, detective. Unfortunately the last few hours haven't been kind to your Wesen comrade. My guards have taken quite a dislike to him. How about I send you a picture instead?" Nick's phone buzzed. Apparently Monroe's kidnapper wasn't interested in waiting for a response. Nick pulled the phone away from his ear to analyze the image. What he saw knocked the breath out of him. The bloody and bruised figure sprawled in a crumbled heap was barely recognizable as the finicky clockmaker Nick knew. Hot molten lava began to boil in his gut. A hand suddenly clapped down on the detective's shoulder. He had almost forgotten his boss was in the room. The captain whispered urgently into his ear, "Don't be ruled by your anger, it's what he wants." Nick knew Renard was right, but it didn't make maintaining a leveled tone any easier.

"That could have been taken hours ago. If you don't want to put him on the phone, fine. Ask him what happened at his last family reunion." Proof of life was the immediate goal. If he didn't lose sight of that objective, he just might make it through this conversation without using every curse in his vocabulary. On the other end of the line the prince seemed to be considering his request.

"One moment," Was the prince with Monroe now, or was his friend being held at a separate site? How badly was Monroe hurt? How quickly did Blutbadden heal? Would he ever see his friend alive again? Nick didn't know, and the not knowing was gnawing at his brain like a termite through wood. The prince's clipped tones intruded on his thoughts," Apparently there were three causalities, two cousins and a sheep dog. Does that satisfy you?" Nick closed his eyes allowing himself a moment of relief. Monroe was alive.

"What do you want?" Now came would come the demand. The prince wouldn't ask for money; that would have been too easy. Instead the kidnapper would ask for something far more valuable.

"You have a key in your possession, one created by your ancestors to hide a something that did not belong to them. I'd like to reclaim it." Reclaim the treasure? The trove of wealth and power didn't belong to anyone; it was stolen centuries ago, its original owners long dead by now. Nick's ancestor had help hide it, precisely so the royal families did not get their hands on it.

"This is the second time someone's threatened my friends trying to steal that key from me. What makes you think I even still have it?" Nick was stalling and he knew it. The truth was, he was desperate for any way out of this situation. One of the last things his aunt had said to him was to guard the key with his life. Nick could handle that, but protecting the key at expense of a friend? That he didn't know he could do.

"If you don't it would be very bad news for your friend. You have one hour to deliver the key or you'll never see the Blutbad again, at least all in one piece. I'll text you the address in forty minutes time." The prince terminated the phone call before Nick had the chance to respond.

"How long do you have?" Renard had obviously elected to forgo condolences and move straight to forming a plan. That worked for Nick.

"One hour." Renard frowned.

"Do you have the address?"

"He says he'll text it in forty minutes." The prince was holding back the information, probably for the same reason he was keeping Nick on such a tight timeline, to prevent him from forming a rescue plan.

"The good and bad news is that he's obviously a little wary of you. He's being very cautious. That will make it harder to take him by surprise." The captain fell silent for almost a minute, eyes fixed at some random point over Nick's left shoulder.

"Can you help or not?" Renard's eyes focused again on Nick. There was the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, which may have been the quickly stifled beginning of a smile.

"We should assume that Eric will have at least two gunmen on site, possible more and he himself will be armed as a secondary precaution. He'll have chosen a locale that is both deserted and securable. The hostage appears to be badly beaten, probably unable to walk without assistance. None of these things a good, but they're not what concerns me the most."

"What 'concerns you the most'?" Nick had the strong feeling he didn't want the answer to his question.

"The key. Without the key you'll never get close enough to the Blutbad to have a prayer of rescuing him." Nick should have thrown the thing into the ocean months ago. It was like the coins, a valuable object of incredible destruction that he had to take responsibility for safeguarding.

"Then what do you propose? That I give it to him?" Nick, despite the heavy sarcasm in his voice, was completely earnest in wanting to hear Renard's response.

"Under no circumstance can you let that key fall into Eric's hands. Do you understand me? Nothing is more important than that." That wasn't the answer Nick had expected or hoped for.

"Not even Monroe's life?"

"Not even if it meant the lives of everyone in Portland." It may have been the first time Nick had gotten a clear insight into his boss' true nature. There was a definite ruthlessness there that Nick had somehow missed for five straight years.

"You must really hate your brother." As a child orphaned at a young age Nick had always lamented his lack of siblings, but he wouldn't have switched place with Renard for all the money and power in the world.

"This is more than sibling rivalry, there's a greater good at stake here." Nick's heckles raised at Renard's use of the term 'greater good'. In his experience anyone who used the expression was usually guilty of evil.

"Whose 'greater good'? Yours?"

"Do you have any idea what my brother and those like him would do if they had the power to remake the world into their image of perfection? Complete Wesen and Human subjugation. Ethnic purges. It would be the Third Reich all over again. Grimms would either become the new world's secret police or become wiped out entirely." Admittedly Renard painted a pretty ugly picture and what he said did align with what Nick knew about the royals. However, the captain hadn't explained how he fit into the puzzle. Where did Renard's true allegiance lie?

"Why do you care what happens to the Humans, Wesen, and Grimms, as long as the Royals come out on top?"

"That's not your concern." Nick knew the tone the captain had just used quite well. It said, 'This conversation is over, unless you'd like to be glued to your desk for the next two months.' If this had been a police matter, Nick would have dropped it. This was not a police matter.

"I think it is. You want me to put both my life and my best friend's life in your hands. You claim you hate your brother and you want to stop him. Tell me why, and don't feed me a line about just wanting to help people."

"You really want to know?" Renard grimaced, and then his face transformed. Nick rocked on his right heel, nearly taking a half-step backwards. The wogue was unlike anything Nick had ever seen. Half of Renard's face had become corpse-like. There were similarities to a Hexenbiest, but it was…incomplete. Suddenly Renard's normal handsome visage returned.

"As I said earlier, Eric and I are half-brothers, paternal half-brothers to be precise. My brother is legitimate, product of a royal marriage. A Pure blood if you would. I, however, am a bastard. My mother was a Hexenbiest making me a half-breed and what most members of the Royal families consider to a taint in our illustrious bloodline." Renard's tone was very matter of fact, but Nick felt certain the captain was harboring some deep resentment.

"That's what this is really about, isn't it? You? You talk about 'greater good', but in reality you're not any better. You want that key just as much as your brother does. You're just as ruthless as he is." Ever since Nick had uncovered that his boss had been deceiving him, he had been trying to make sense of it all. What else was buried beneath the surface that Nick had missed?

"If you're implying-"

"You know damn well what I'm implying. Hank and Aunt Marie. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong." Renard opened his mouth, no doubt preparing to reiterate his prior statements about lack of evidence, then unexpectedly, he closed it. Renard's head cocked, ever so slightly to the side. When he opened his mouth again something truly remarkable popped out: the truth.

"Like I said before, sometimes there is a greater good." The words held no remorse, no apology, no compassion, nothing the Nick would have expected from the man he'd once thought he'd known.

"You son of a bitch," Nick had suspected from the moment he'd learned the truth about his boss. All the signs had been there, and he had pushed for the confession like any cop would. Still a part of him had hoped he was wrong, had hoped that his boss and his mentor hadn't violated his trust so completely.

"Yes, I am. I am one cold, power-hungry, son of a bitch bastard. But I'm the cold, power-hungry, son of a bitch bastard that has an idea which just might save your friend. "


	8. Chapter 8

Good people were so easy to manipulate. No matter how strong they thought they were, they were always handicapped by their emotions and morality. Nick Burkhardt was a classic example. The world's monsters feared his race, and yet Eric had made him his puppet in less than day. Within the hour the prince will have succeeded where his brother had failed. He would be that much closer to reestablishing the royal authority, and reclaiming the power that had been lost over the centuries. Eric glanced over at the bloodied creature the Grimm would trade the priceless key for. No doubt about it, Eric was getting the better end of the deal.

"You ought to be pleased; you'll be heading home soon," The mangled beast fixed Eric with a surprisingly bold stare, given the multiple beatings he'd endured.

"I'd leap for joy, but, well, you know," The hostage rattled his chains against the steel reinforced beam he'd been secured to. Given the Blutbad's injuries, he didn't pose much of a threat, but Eric wasn't taking any chances. He had underestimated this wesen once before, and Eric never made the same mistake twice. In fairness to himself, it was his now-deceased head of security that had failed to properly secure the two hostages, before sending a premature communication of success. The man should consider himself lucky for his quick death at the Blutbad's hands. Eric's punishment for the guard's incompetence would have been much more painful.

"Good to see your mental acuity hasn't been affected by your time with Andre. The best most people can manage after ten hours is nonsensical gibberish." His captive was surprisingly resilient. Andre might have broken most of his body, but not his spirit. Despite hours of interrogation, the Blutbad had stubbornly refused to provide any information of value about the Grimm.

"Maybe Andrea here is getting a little soft." There was a sharp crack as Andre landed a hard backhand against the Blutbad's right cheekbone. Machoism was clearly still alive and well in Eric's guard.

"You really shouldn't provoke him. He's not pleased to have lost half of his security force to a single untrained wesen." Under ordinary circumstance Eric wouldn't care, but if the beatings continued he might not have a viable bargaining chip.

"If they were your security force, I hope you have some damn good life insurance." Insolent though the comment may have been, the creature did have a point. Perhaps he should look into recruiting Blutbadden for his personal security team. Despite their strength Blutbadden had never been sought after by the families because of their violent, unpredictable nature, but perhaps that had been a mistake. This Monroe specimen seemed remarkably self-possessed given what he'd endured, and he appeared unflinchingly loyal. Unwavering fidelity definitely had its uses.

"You know there was no need for this to be such an uncomfortable experience. If you've been a bit more cooperative you'd have been spared much needless pain."

"What can I say? Cooperative isn't exactly in my DNA." True though that might have been, this Blutbad clearly didn't conform to the other norms of his kind. He was an aberration and that made Eric both uncomfortable and intrigued.

"And yet you lend your assistance to a Grimm. If anything is against your nature, it should be that. I'm curious, why do you do it?" The wesen stared at the prince for a full eight seconds, and just as Eric had become certain no answer was forthcoming, he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Do you know the story of David and Goliath?" What did that biblical myth have to do with anything?

"Yes."

"Everyone loves the story; a little guy knocking a giant on his ass. Everyone likes to think that it is really possible, that one day all the bullies of the world will get what's coming to them. Ninety-nine percent of the time, that's crap. In real life, David would get the shit beat out of him. Helping Nick gives me a front row seat to that one percent of the time when the powerful, untouchable monster finally goes down."

Eric wasn't oblivious to the message the Blutbad was communicating. His hostage honestly believed that the Grimm would not only come to save him, but somehow get the better of Eric. It was laughable and yet the conviction in his voice made the prince take pause. Was he ready? Had he covered all of his angles? He was being ridiculous, of course he had. It was foolish to doubt himself, even for a moment. Eric's phone buzzed. There was Grimm, right on time.


	9. Chapter 9

"Detective Burkhardt. I trust you are on your way. You are ten minute from your deadline." In less than a quarter of an hour Eric would be in possession of an object his family had sought for more than a millennia.

"I'll be there in five." Further proof Eric could turn anyone into his puppet, so long as he held the right strings. Perhaps he should rethink his current plan release the Blutbad into the Grimm's car. Threatening him seemed to be an effective method of bringing the Grimm to heel.

"With the key of course."

"No." For a moment Eric was certain he'd misheard.

"No?"

"I didn't bring it. My aunt entrusted me with that key and I'm not turning it over to you." Eric had severely miscalculated. Everything his research had turned up about the Grimm had indicated the he valued the life of the Wesen. Apparently Eric had been misinformed.

"Sentimental of you to drive out all this way just to watch your friend die." Perhaps Eric had chosen the wrong hostage. He'd targeted the Grimm's Wesen acquaintances, rather than his human ones, because he'd hoped to gain more insight in Detective Burkhardt's Grimm work. That aspect of Eric's plan hadn't panned out, and now he was left with a hostage whom the Grimm obviously felt was expendable.

"I said I didn't bring the key, not that I didn't have anything to bargain with." Eric was both uneasy and intrigued. He signaled to his guard, who had already taken aim, at the Blutbad to lower his gun.

"And what might that be?" What kind of game was the Grimm playing?

"See for yourself." Eric's phone buzzed in his hand. He looked at the screen and found he'd been sent a photograph of his brother, bound, gagged, and sporting some nasty looking bruises. Detective Burkhardt was clearly less predictable than Eric had previously assumed.

"Why would think that man has any value to me?" When this whole mess was finally sorted Eric would definite look into enlarging the picture and getting it framed.

"He is your brother." Burkhardt was much better informed than Eric had realized.

"How exactly did you come by that bit of information?" Detective Burkhardt was a Grimm on his own. According to his brother's reports, the detective's aunt hadn't raised him as a Grimm, so he should have been relatively ignorant about the Families.

"He told me, not long before I beat the crap out of him." His dear brother, outwitted by an inexperienced Grimm. Eric was only sorry he hadn't been there to witness it firsthand. He had to turn this to his advantage somehow. Burkhardt obviously believed Eric would trade his hostage for his bastard half-brother. If Eric indicated he'd be willing to make the exchange, he could lure the Grimm in, capture him, and extract the location of the key. If Sean happened to die in the crossfire, so much the better.

"One of my men will meet you at the warehouse's main entrance."


	10. Chapter 10

Andre should have been back by now. Eric had sent of his guard to the main entrance to escort the Grimm and his hostage inside three minutes ago. If the prince was a man who believed in feelings and intuition, he would had scraped the entire operation and headed back to Europe. It seemed that everything in the past 12 hours that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. Two members of his security force were dead, a hostage escaped, he'd failed to gather damning evidence on his brother, and the Grimm was proving much harder to control than he'd anticipated. Perhaps aborting was the strategic move.

Eric internally chided himself for his thoughts. It was true that the plan hadn't come off as smoothly as he'd wished, but he'd brilliantly salvaged the situation. The Grimm would be here momentarily, and Eric was ready for him. He would have the key, and potentially the unexpected bonus of his brother's death. Besides it wasn't as though failure was an option here, not with the lines he'd crossed in order to get this far. The Families were very clear that if he was successful, he would have a seat at the High Table. If he was not, the consequences would be quite unpleasant.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting." The Grimm entered the large opened factory floor area that Eric had chosen specifically for the original exchange. Sean, still gagged back walked no more than a foot in front of his detective, acting as a body shield for the Grimm. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Detective. The sight of his captive brother would have brought him inexpressible pleasure, if Eric hadn't noticed the absence of his employee.

"I'm not surprised it took you some time finding, given that you seemed to have become separated from your escort." Eric definitely needed a higher caliber of security. It would be his first order of business after this hideous escapade was over, and the key was in his possession.

"You sent him to keep him from me from getting lost? How considerate. Maybe you should have been a little clearer in your instructions. He seemed to think it was his job to assault me."

"An unfortunate miscommunication." Unfortunate in the sense that Eric was quickly losing the advantage of superior numbers.

"Unfortunate for him, at any rate. So are you ready deal or not?"

"Not quite yet. One thing is still troubling me. Why exactly would Sean reveal to his identity and mine? He rarely volunteers information for no reason." Eric watched the Grimm intently. After years in the political arena, he knew how to spot a lie.

"Oh, he had a reason. He generously offered to help me save Monroe." Eric read that as the truth. So Sean had interfered after all, he had just been canny enough to avoid the listening devices.

"Why, may I ask did you turned him down?"

"I have a hard time trusting someone who not only lied to me for five years, but also conspired to kill two people I love." Once again the Grimm's words were sincere.

"You seem to be aware my brother and I aren't the closest of siblings, so why do you think I'd turn over the Blutbad to ensure his safe release?" The Grimm smiled thinly.

"You misunderstood the deal I was proposing. I'm not offering you your brother's life, in exchange for Monroe, I'm offering his death."

"Go on." Despite himself, Eric's interest was peaked, at least enough to hear what the Grimm had to say.

"The Captain was kind enough to inform me that part of the reason you were here was to gather evidence against him, so you could get the family's approval to have him killed. If a rogue Grimm were to take him out, I'm guessing that would cut through quite a bit of red tape?" This Burkhardt was more intelligent than appearances had indicated. Still Eric needed to be cautious, when something sounded too good to be true, it usually was.

"And you'd be willing to do that, kill your boss, and fellow police officer in cold blood to protect a Blutbad?" Burkhardt's reputation as a moral and compassionate Grimm (if there was such a thing) had to have come from somewhere. He has his doubts that this officer of the law had the stomach for cold blooded murder.

"That's the wrong question. The real question is: Would I kill a man who tried to murder my aunt and partner to save a friend?" Revenge and the protection of another creature. Yes, Eric could see how the detective could rationalize his actions, if he were given proper incentive.

"We have a deal, provided you fulfill your end first." Eric had no intention of holding up his end. Once the Grimm had rid Eric of his perpetual burden he could use his crime to blackmail him for the location of the key. At last things were falling into place.

"On your knees." Detective Burkhardt forced his brother to the ground and removed his gag, "so Captain, any last words?" Eric's brother glared up at his former subordinate.

"Just one. North." North? Why-Eric didn't have time to finish the thought before the Grimm spun and took out Eric's sniper, who had been perched in the catwalk near the north wall of the building. There were two more gunshot cracks. Eric swung his gaze away from the crumpled sniper, back to the Grimm, expecting to see his body sprawled on the floor bleeding. Instead the Grimm stood whole, unharmed and pointing his gun straight at him. Worse, he wasn't alone. Sean stood shoulder with the detective. The handcuffs that had bound his brother's wrists moments before were strewn at Sean's feet and somehow a gun had materialized in his hands**.**

"Keep your hands up, or you end up like the rest of your men." The prince didn't need to turn around to know that his final two guards were lying dead behind him, likely at the hand of his brother. He was the sole survivor. Whether he continued to be one remained to be seen.

"Nice shot, even though you did take you time with it," though his brother spoke to the Grimm, his triumphant eyes never left Eric.

"Give me a break, I was trying to figure out where North was. You couldn't have just said 'right'?" Detective Burkhardt holstered his gun.

"You wouldn't have known if it was your right or my right. Besides you were an eagle scout. You should be able remember which way north is." The detective sauntered over to Eric, roughly spun him around and slapped handcuffs on his wrists like Eric was just one more common thug he arrested on a daily basis.

"If we were out in the middle of a forest, it would have been a little easier." Eric was forced to suffer the indignity of a pat down while his brother gleefully looked on. The detective found and discarded Eric burner phone, his weapon and his backup weapon. When he found Eric's regular mobile, he tossed it to Sean who caught it in one smooth motion. Finally the Grimm removed a key from his inner front pocket. With one last contemptuous look the detective ran over to Eric's hostage and released him from his restraints.

"Monroe, are you alright?" Eric read genuine concern in the Grimm's voice. Unbelievable and unnatural as it was the Grimm did have a strong emotional attachment to the Blutbad.

"I've spent the night being interrogated by a sadist, but other than that I'm peachy. How's Rosalee?" Rosalee must have been the Fuchbau that had eluded capture. When the Blutbad spoke her name he sounded more anxious than he had at any point during Eric's questioning. If his men had just been competent enough to gather both hostages today could have turned out very differently.

"She's fine, apart from being furious I wouldn't let her give her a gun and let her shoot up the place. She's parked about five minutes away. I better give him the all clear before she calls for backup." The Grimm whipped a cell phone from his pocket and hit a few numbers.

"Hi Rosalee. Yes, we're all fine. Hang on." The Grimm passed the cell phone to the Blutbad and suddenly the voice that had been too soft to make out suddenly became loud enough for Eric to discern words like, "idiot", "foolish", and "never again". The Blutbad seemed to be being scolded like a schoolboy and his only and response seemed to be nodding and apologizing. After a thirty second tirade the sounds emanating from the phone reduced in volume, and the theme of the conversation seemed to shift, judging by the soft smile that played across the beast's bloodied face. After another twenty seconds he turned to the Grimm who had been pointedly looking away.

"She'll meet us out front in three minutes and apparently we're heading straight to the hospital."

"Good. In mean time take these. They were left over from my run in with the Siegbarste. Apparently I healed much faster than my doctors expected." The detective dropped two pills into the Blutbad's outstretched hand. "Why don't you sit here and rest a minute while I deal with him?" On the word 'him' the Grimm jerked his chin towards Eric. That didn't bode well.

"It's not exactly like I got a lot of other options." Monroe gestured to legs, at least one of which had been broken in past 12 hours. The Grimm face darkened ominously. The eyes that had been so soft looking at his friend moments before burned with a deep primal fury. This was a Grimm, a slayer of monsters and a dealer of death and Eric was standing before him, stripped of every last ounce of protection. The Grimm stalked towards him and Eric felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

"I have always been a simple guy. I catch bad guys, hang out with my buddies, and go home to my girlfriend. I'm a SIMPLE GUY. Granted since I've become a Grimm the bad guys have gotten a little scarier and my buddies have gotten a little stranger, but I'm still a SIMPLE GUY. My world is small and I like it like that. When you came here and attacked my friends, you made a mistake, because I don't give a shit about your political power, or your pedigree. When I look at you I don't see a prince, I just see the son of a bitch that hurt my friend."

The Grimm's fist seemed to come out of nowhere, but suddenly Eric face and stomach exploded in pain. Eric doubled over clutching his gut while simultaneously holding his now broken nose. His eyes were filled with involuntary tears. The Grimm leaned down began to whisper in his ear.

"If you touch anyone I care about, I will come for you. I won't just kill your assassin and send you his head, I will come for YOU. Not matter how many guards you hire, no matter how long it takes, I will find you and I will take you apart, piece by piece. I will cut off your hands and your feet, your nose and your eyes, and finally your tongue and when I'm done I won't kill you. I will leave you there disfigured and alone to think about if coming after me was really worth it," The Grimm then straightened and walked back toward the Blutbad without another glance at Eric. The prince looked and his brother, who stood silently with his gun draw and a small satisfied smile on his face. It made no sense. Eric had been certain Nick was telling the truth.

"So much for finding it hard to trust someone who lied to you and tried to kill two people you love." The Grimm looked back over his shoulder at Eric.

"I wasn't lying, but sometimes you have to pick the lesser of two evils."

"Are you sure his evil is lesser?" Detective Burkhardt's glance swung to Renard, then back to the Blutbad.

"I'm sure it can't be greater." In a fairly impressive display of strength, the Grimm scooped up his friends and exited as he had entered.

"So what now, dear brother. Do you plan to kill me?"

"No, I plan to personally escort you to your plane and watch you fly away, never to trespass in my canton again."

"You don't honestly think you've won here, do you? You interfered and once I tell the heads of the other houses-" Eric voice died in his throat. As he'd been speaking Sean had plunged his left hand into his pocket. Now the hand was open, palm up and a small metal object was resting on it.

"Nick has generously entrusted me with the key's safe keeping. Now that it's in my possession, should be there will be no more intrusions into my canton. Anyone who wants the key can negotiate with me." Sean had orchestrated this. He'd played both the Grimm and Eric perfectly and he was politically stronger than he'd ever been.

"You won't get away with this."

"I think I will. After all, I've done exactly what I'd said I'd do. I've acquired the key and the Grimm, thanks in large part to you, my brother. It is you that will be in for the reprimand. Losing of six guards and poaching in another prince's canton without anything to show for it?" Eric would be lucky if he could convince the house heads not to execute him for his unqualified failure. There was no use denying it, Sean had beaten him. His bastard, half Hexenbiest brother had beaten him. If the council didn't kill him, his mother would make him wish his was dead.


	11. Chapter 11

Renard leaned against the frame of the hospital room door, allowing it to support some of his weight. He was almost envious the prone figure lying in the hospital bed. While Sean had been busy cleaning up the mess his brother had created, the Blutbad had been granted the luxury of sleep. On the other hand the clockmaker had undoubtedly received more extensive injuries than Sean. Renard's bruises were largely superficial. Nick had obviously shown some restraint, despite having shown more enthusiasm during the beating than was strictly necessary.

Renard strolled over to the bedside of the sleeping figure. The man was wrapped such much white gauze that he resembled half a mummy. One of his legs was suspended in the air, in some kind of sling. Eric's goons had certainly been thorough.

"Planning on finishing what your brother started?" The Bludbad opened his eyes to glare at Renard. His disinterested tone was unusual, given the question.

"Not at the moment." Renard couldn't speak for the future, but at present he was pleased about the unusual wesen's presence in his canton. Not only did he make Nick a stronger ally, but he had also antagonized Eric. Both facts predisposed Renard to wish Monroe good health.

"That's reassuring." Renard chose to ignore the Blutbad's heavy sarcasm.

"I thought I Fuchsbau would be here." The woman had been furious when she had been delegated only a minor role in the rescue. It had taken ten minutes of persuasion on Nick's part before she'd agreed to serve as their back-up. Her instructions had been to call the police if she didn't receive Nick's call fifteen minutes after they entered the building and to wait for help to arrive. Renard had been skeptical she would obey the second part of Nick's directions, but choose not to voice his doubts. If the woman was willing to die trying to save her friends, it was none of his business.

"She was, but visiting hours ended three hours ago, and they kicked her out. They tried to do the same to Nick, but he flashed his badge and fed them some line about my being a victim of a violent crime and how he was worried about a second attempt on my life, which actually is mostly true." Renard's instinct had been correct, Nick was still here. That was fortunate, given the Grimm was the reason Sean had chosen to pay this visit, rather than head home after his exhausting day.

"The best lies usually are."

"I'm sure you would know." It appeared that despite Renard's role in his rescue, the Blutbad didn't feel indebted, or inclined to trust him. He decided to let the jab pass, as the man had had a rough night.

"If Nick didn't leave then where is he?" Sean had important matters to discuss with Nick, and he'd rather discuss them while the shared rescue was fresh in Nick's mind. The more time that passed, the more likely Nick was to reflect on his lingering doubts and suspicions. Sean wanted to make his case while there was still the chance that Nick might actually hear him out.

"Probably getting another coffee. Despite my many protest he's planning keeping an all-night vigil." Monroe snorted at the image, but Renard found it oddly appropriate for the detective. He could easily imagine Nick in armor, standing guard at his friend's bedside.

"He doesn't seem to have much faith in hospital security." It wasn't surprising, considering what had nearly happened to his aunt.

"I wonder why?" Monroe appeared to be thinking along the same lines as Sean. That could only mean that Nick had brought his friend up to speed.

"I take it Nick has fully debriefed you."

"Nick doesn't keep secrets from me." No, the Grimm's trust in the Blutbad was absolute; Nick had made that abundantly clear.

"I've recently become aware of that fact." Monroe's eyes narrowed at Renard's words, no doubt trying to discern his meaning. Renard smiled cryptically, "I can't help but wonder why. Why would a Grimm trust a Blutbad?"

"Blutbad Wieder, completely different church." Monroe's response was immediate and slightly defensive.

"Even so…" Perhaps with a little prompting Renard could gain more insight into the unusual pair.

"It's funny, your brother asked me the opposite. He asked why a Blutbad would trust a Grimm." Of course, after all he and Eric were the opposite sides of a shared coin.

"That's because my brother doesn't know Nick very well. Nick is honest, loyal, and brave, traits that naturally inspire trust. What I find strange is that he, as a detective would place his faith in a killer, reformed or not." This was something that Sean couldn't seem to make sense of. A Blutbad Wieder is rarely born a Blutbad Wieder. Monroe, innocuous though he seemed with his bow ties and stamp collection, must have blood on his hands.

"Nick never asks me about my past." The wesen's whole body was tensed. This was obliviously a sensitive topic. Naturally Sean couldn't resist a little prodding.

"Why is that, do you think? Why is he willing to overlook your past sins, but not mine? " Wasn't it a bit hypocritical of Nick to judge Sean so harshly, while never reproaching the Blutbad?

"It's only been a year since you tried to kill Marie and few months since you went after Hank. I'd hardly call that 'the past'." Monroe was nit-picking over trivialities.

"I would disagree. Everything that is not the future or the present is the past. It is unchangeable and therefore irrelevant." Renard couldn't change what had happened with Kessler and Detective Griffin. Furthermore his transgressions hadn't caused permanent damage; Marie ultimately died of her disease, and Hank fully recovered from Adalind's potion. Nick needed to let the past go, and focus instead on what they could accomplish together in the future.

"You're wrong, the past is relevant. My past, my ugly, bloody past, is the reason I'm lying in this hospital bed. I was already a Blutbad Wieder when I met Nick. I'd been at it awhile, sticking with my routines, working the program, but the doubt still hadn't gone away."

"Doubt?"

"Doubt that I could keep doing this, that I could really change who I was. Doubt that it was worth it, considering I'd never make up for the things that I'd done. Then Nick showed up, a flesh and blood Grimm, and I was sure that it was my karma finally catching up with me. Turns out it was, just not in the way I expected.

After some initial misunderstandings, he did something I'm not sure any other Grimm has ever done throughout recorded history; he asked me for my help. Nick wanted me to protect his badass Aunt from assassins unknown. As I stood outside her door, I considered killing her myself." Monroe had been there from the beginning, unknowingly, and ultimately fortuitously, foiling Renard's initial plans.

"But you didn't." Sean had seen the report on Marie Kessler's death. Cancer had ultimately done what Renard's many assassins had failed to do.

"No, I didn't. I kept my word to Nick. He saw a man, where any other Grimm would have seen a monster and I wanted to prove to myself that he was right. Why he trusted me in the first place? Only Nick could tell you. Why he keeps trusting me? Because I earn it." The bruises and broken bones testified to that fact. Renard regarded the Blutbad with a feeling not unlike respect. Nick was fortunate to have him.


	12. Chapter 12

**This is the final chapter of It Has Begun. I hope no one's too disappointed in how things turn out! Thanks for reading and especially for reviewing!**

**-Evey Edge**

Monroe lifted his nose into the air, sniffing twice. Renard was forcibly reminded of a bloodhound catching a scent. Sean tensed, moving a hand to his holster. If the Blutbad sensed a threat, he wanted to be ready to deal with it. The Blutbad smiled broadly, though not at Renard, at whatever his nose had identified. No threat then. Renard resumed his relaxed pose. The wesen's gaze refocused on Renard and the grin dimmed a bit.

"Nick's just down the hall, he'll be here in just a few seconds." They waited in silences, both pairs of eyes glued to the door. After about ten heartbeats Nick burst in carried a brown paper bag.

"Alright buddy, have I got a surprise for-" Nick spotted Sean, and the good humor immediately left his face. Monroe eagerly leaned forward then winced at the pain the movement cost him.

"Surprise? Please, I could smell Juliette's cooking wafting in my direction from a mile away. Please tell her how much I appreciate it." Nick's smile returned as he walked past Renard, and began unloading the contents of the bag on the Blutbad's lap. Juliette appeared to have prepared Fillet Minion with a side of buttered asparagus.

"Tell her yourself, she's dropping by to visit you tomorrow." Nick passed Monroe a cloth napkin and silver knife and fork, which Renard found slightly ironic, given the commonly held human misconception that wolf-men have an adverse reaction to the metal.

"She doesn't have to do that."

"She knows doesn't have to, she wants to. You're her hero remember?" Nick had introduced Juliette and Monroe? Renard was surprised that Nick had confided in Juliette about his Grimm work. Perhaps they were lying to her about the details of their association.

"Well, after saving me from the untold horror of hospital food, she is definitely mine. I'm sure you two have things to discuss. Why don't you go sort things out while I enjoy my delicious present?" Renard knew a dismissal when he heard it, though he was more used to issuing them then taking them. Still, he had wanted to speak with Nick privately.

"Did everything go as planned?" Nick didn't speak until he had closed Monroe's hosipal room door. Only then did he look at Renard.

"Yes. Eric is on his way back to Europe where he'll face a tribunal. He'll confirm I am in possession of the key, in exchange for my waving my right to his head. The families might make some noise about my turning over the key, but they won't press the matter until the remaining keys have been acquired." Renard specifically refrained from mentioning that only two other keys were still beyond the Families grasp.

"What happen when and if they do find the others?" The answer to that question depended largely on how quickly Sean was able to establish his power base.

"Hopefully my plans will have come to fruition before we reach that juncture. In any case the Families will no later be targeting you, or those closest to you. That was the point of our agreement, wasn't it?" Nick's gaze drifted to the door, behind which a ravenous Blutbad was no doubt ripping through a well-cooked steak.

"Yes." Nick continued to stare straight ahead at the solid metal, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"I've contained the situation at the station. The official story is that Monroe was abducted from Rosalee's shop during a robbery. The perpetrators roughed him up before releasing him and you've been taking some personal time to watch over him." Details of their joint deception seemed to awaken Nick from his minor trance.

"What about the warehouse and the bodies?" Nick was fortunate that Sean had experience dealing with these matters.

"All six guards are in pine boxes on my brother's plane. The warehouse has been sterilized. No one will ever know we were there." Eric had chosen his warehouse well. Sean had been able to get a disposal crew in and out without being witnessed by prying eyes.

"And the key?"

"Tomorrow I'll choose a bank far away from Portland, and rent a safety deposit box under a false name. There will be no paper trail." For now the key Nick had turned over was secured in a vault in his apartment. Sean had many plans concerning the exquisite object.

"Good."

"Don't worry, Eric was completely fooled. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. Monroe is quite the artist." Nick's eyelids, which had been slightly drooping from exhaustion shot wide open. Sean smiled thinly, his suspicions having been proven correct. "Don't looked so shocked Nick. At after I've been at this game a lot longer than you have." Nick's ability to deceive, though better than what Renard would have expected from a soul as honest as Nick's, could yet use some refining.

"When did you know?" The truth was Renard hadn't known for certain until Nick himself confirmed the accusation. He decided Nick didn't need to know that. Once the Grimm finally consented to pledge his fidelity, Sean would be more than happy to tutor him in the art of the bluff. For now he would confine himself to explaining when he'd first experienced doubt regarding the key's authenticity.

"When you turned over the key to me. I know you well enough to know you'd only relinquish that key to someone you completely trusted. I have to hand it to you, having a forgery made showed foresight." Renard had almost dismissed his suspicions as paranoia due to the quality of the fake. He'd questioned how a police detective could have possibly manufacture such a convincing creation. Then he'd remembered Monroe was an antique clock repairman. A craftsman like that would have access to the materials and tools for delicate metal work. It was conceivable that he could have fashioned a fake key, given enough time and access to the original.

"I figured someone had already tried to coerce me to surrender it once. It stood to reason they'd try again someday."

"Smart. It appears you have more of an instinct for politics than I realized." Sean would have to be vigilant in his future dealing with Nick. He wouldn't make the same mistakes as his brother.

"You call the kidnapping and near murder of my friend 'politics'?" Nick's voice was so filled with ire, one would think that it was he who had been deceived by Renard, not the other way around.

"I merely paying you a compliment, there's no need for you to be hostile."

"Isn't there?" Renard sighed. It appeared that nothing he did would be enough to appease Nick.

"So we're back to this again are we?"

"Sorry, but I tend to hold grudges against people who come after my friends and family. You tried to kill my aunt." 'Tried' being the operative word.

"And failed. Marie Kessler died of her disease, not at my hand."

"And Hank-" Again he his action had no lasting damage. If Hank had died, that would have been one thing, but he had recovered. Also there was the fact that Renard had been forced into his course of action because he'd been trying to protect Nick. He could have easily handed the Grimm over to his cousin and spared himself a lot of trouble. Instead he'd been forced to commit double homicide and put himself on even shakier ground with the Families.

"Was in fine health the last time I saw him, as are Monroe and Juliette, both because of me, or are you choosing to overlook that?" Renard had helped Nick as much, if not more than he had hurt him, yet the transgressions appeared to be all the Grimm could see.

"Good deeds don't cancel out the bad." Renard regarded Nick for a moment. The stubborn detective arms were folded across his chest in a firm barrier between himself and the captain. His current tact was clearly getting him nowhere. It was time to try another.

"You're right."

"What?" Renard hid a smile as the dumbfounded detective unconsciously uncrossed his arm.

"I said you're right about me. Winston Churchill once said 'Good and great are seldom found in the same man.' I am not a good man, but I AM a great prince. " Nick's perception of the world was completely different from Renard's. If Sean could just explain his perspective, then perhaps an alliance between them wouldn't be so impossible.

"Sorry, I'm afraid I don't buy into the whole 'royalty' thing." Renard could understand Nick's instinctive resistance to Sean's title. It went against everything the citizens of this country had been taught to believe in.

"That's not surprising, given your American upbringing, but consider everything you've seen in the past year. Do you really think the Wesen are best left to their own devices? That the human justice system is enough to keep them under control? I want to establish a supplemental system of law and order for the Wesen community." Renard had his birthright, just as Nick did and they both had predetermined roles to play.

"I thought that was what Grimms were for." This was exactly Sean's point. A Grimm was the prefect vassal to enforce the laws of his canton.

"Yes, and that is why I'd like your help. Nothing would change, except that you'd be keeping me in the loop, and in return I would protect you from the Families. I'm not looking for an answer right away, just consider what I said." Renard began to retreat down the hall. He'd made a few good points and now was the time to withdraw and let them sink in.

"You're not going ask me for the real key?" Sean wouldn't waste his breathe on a question he knew would never be answered.

"No. We bought ourselves some time today, and with such a convincing replica on hand it could be years before I'd need the actual key. By then I'm hoping to have earned back your trust enough that you will give it to me of your own free will." Pushing Nick would be a mistake. Nick was a smart if stubborn man. Eventually he would see that joining Renard would help him more than hurt him. Now that he no longer needed the key so urgently, he could afford to give the Grimm the space he needed to come to the right decision.

"I won't hold my breath on that." Despite Nick's bravado, his single shoulder shrug revealed just the slightest bit of uncertainty. Sean allowed himself a crooked half smile.

"Time will tell. See you tomorrow, Nick."

As Renard strolled out to his car he considered the outcome of the past 24 hours. He hadn't achieved everything he'd set out to. His greatest failure was that he hadn't secured the actual key. His greatest success was that he had sent his brother running back to Europe where he would face serious reprimand. He had also gained political leverage, false though it may be. Finally while Nick might not yet be ready to swear an oath, Sean had made some small strides in the right direction. Sean was a patient man, and knew nothing worthwhile was acquired without effort. Tomorrow he'd worry about his next steps, but tonight he would celebrate. It had begun.


End file.
